Strawberry Ice Cream
by Diary-chan
Summary: Yui is alone one night in her bedroom and reflects on what she and Miaka used to have. Oneshot. Yui-centric.


**A/N: So I was randomly doing this FY one-shot and it turned into something totally different from what I first planned. Oh well... Enjoy, anyways; my first FY work. Ugh, I love it so much! Oh, and just so you all know, I think Miaka is WAY overrated. (dodges thrown tomatoes and other splattery food items thrown at her)**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Fushigi Yuugi. Or strawberry ice cream, for that matter. Ew. Strawberry ice cream. Gross..._

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_**Strawberry Ice Cream**_

_By Diary-chan  
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"_Yui! Yui-chan, look!"_

_The slender blonde turned around and looked where Miaka pointed out the window. Her friend leaned against the glass, face pushed against it comically and her own breath fogging up her vision. Yui untangled herself from her pink sleeping bag on the floor of the living room, tore her eyes from the educational English-teaching program playing on the glowing TV screen, and rubbing her sore blue orbs sleepily, stumbled over the hems of her large yellow pajama pants to the window beside the blue nightgown-clad brunette._

"_What is it?" questioned the blonde a bit irritably. Outside was a view of the city, bright Tokyo nightlife glowing through neon signs and car horns and the sounds of people yelling. Cities, Yui always thought, were like cats. They never seemed to sleep, did they? Always lively and awake and bright-eyed. Especially if that city happened to be Tokyo, Japan. She scanned the skyscrapers for anything strange than quickly tilted her gaze upward, towards the stars and the fat, spotted sphere of the fluorescent, gray-silver moon surrounded by the blindingly white pinpoints of light that were the sky._

_Finally Yui caught sight of what was amiss: a circular object about half the size of the moon, glowing as it shot across the sky and left a trail of multicolored light in its wake. The blonde's mouth formed into a tiny 'o', finally understanding Miaka's bubbly, childish awe. This was the first time either of the eight-year-old girls had seen a meteor in real life, arcing slowly and gracefully across the ten p.m. night sky. _

"_Ohh," said Yui in reply, not bothering with anything more as she gripped the white wood of the window sill next to her friend, shoulders barely touching as they crowded a bit to make room to watch the comet._

_They sat in awe for another moment, then Miaka stirred several moments before the meteor disappeared into the horizon._

"_Yui-chan! Yui-chan!" she cried, and suddenly Yui's hand was enveloped in the tight grip of a delicate yet strong hand. The blonde turned to Miaka, whose eyes were clear and eager and determined and just plain blissful. Blinking, her blue-gray orbs questioned the meaning of the nonsense._

"_Yui!" Miaka continued. "Yui-chan, it's a shooting star! They grant wishes! Let's make a wish together!"_

_Yui blinked. She was a shrewd child, indeed. The blonde didn't really believe in such superstitions, but for the sake of Miaka's joy, she played along. "Alright," she concluded. "What should we wish for?"_

_Miaka's face split into a huge, goofy grin and her dark eyes, bright and shining even in the dim light, closed, her head tilted. "Let's wish to be best friends forever! Ne, Yui-chan, what about that?"_

_Yui stared for a moment. Then she blinked and nodded. "Sure." She said._

_Miaka turned to stare at the disappearing tail of the comet and concentrated. "Oh, shooting star," she whispered intensely, "grant our wish." And soon Yui, overcome with the sentimentality of the moment, followed suit._

"_Onegaishimasu," continued the blonde, eyes closed, "let us be best friends forever."_

"_Forever," Miaka echoed happily._

_They stayed like that a moment longer. As an eight-year-old, Yui didn't know why she felt like crying… but she did know that it wasn't in sorrow. She smiled to herself, content to kneel by the window bathed in the silver light of the full moon, sober and serious a moment as she herself was._

_And then, Miaka's stomach ruined the moment._

Grrrrrrrrrrr.

_Yui's head snapped around to stare at the brunette, who grinned sheepishly and let go of her hand. "Gomen nasai, Yui-chan," Miaka apologized, scratching the back of her head. "I just really, really want some ice cream right now._

_All disappointment in the loss of the moment disappeared, and Yui grinned widely at her best friend. "Do you have strawberry?"_

Just then, Yui's eyes flew open to find a canopy of thin silk above her head. She blinked. Wasn't it just a moment ago that the blonde miko could've sworn she had been shoveling cold, creamy mouthfuls of strawberry-flavored dessert in her mouth?

She grunted a little, and turned her head on the pillow, not bothering to move the rest of her body. A wide window let blue-tinted light stream through translucent curtains that reminded Yui of a bride's veil. The tiles on the floor of her huge, high-ceilinged room were marbled gray and blue and green, and rugs strung with gold and silver threads dotted the floors. Her bed was large and comfortable, a beautiful canopy filtering down from the four posts on each corner. The fabric of the canopy was sky-blue silk, and the bed itself was pushed into a corner so that she need only draw the curtain-like swatches of material closed for complete privacy.

Yui sighed wistfully and sat up, unwilling to break the silence. After a moment, she reached to her right to pull free the ties that kept the silk canopy and her window to the world open, and felt vaguely comforted within the pitch blackness of her bed.

The blonde miko leaned back again, the soft mattress shaping around her thin form luxuriously. It was the best, biggest, fanciest bed Yui had ever slept in.

_How come,_ Yui asked herself, pulling the silk coverlet up to her chin as tears she was much too familiar with streamed, unheeded, down her pale, blemishless cheeks, _I'd still prefer a million sleepless nights in a thin pink sleeping bag, lying awake in front of _her _TV, laughing and playing jokes on _her_ while _her _snoring keeps me awake?_

_Why? Why is it so hard to hate her?_

They poured down her face now, burning her cheeks and slipping to pool where her neck and chin creased, wetting her short, pale hair, putting dark, damp spots on the luscious sheets of the luxurious bed. Tears. Why? Why was she shedding precious tears over someone like _her_?

_Miaka is my enemy now,_ Yui thought, staring blankly into the darkness. _Come to think of it, she always has been… we were never really friends. She only came back for… came back for… _him_…_

Yui frowned as she felt her heart being squeezed mercilessly by a cold, iron fist.

_I hate her… remember?_

…_Why… why is it so hard to hate her?! Why must I force myself?! Everything that's happened to me… is… is… is _her _fault. She never loved me. She didn't come back to this world for me. She came back for Tama… Tama… home… And she didn't rescue me because she loved me. She rescued me because she was obligated to! So much for that shooting star, ne… some best friends we are…_

They streamed into her mouth, bitter and salty and wet. She hated them. These tears. They made her weak; she _was_ weak. Unlike Miaka. Brave, selfless, kind, lovable, _perfect_ Miaka. Even her flaws – the awful gluttony that always proved her downfall and her endless trust in people – were perfect and innocent in themselves.

_Unlike me,_ Yui thought spitefully. She brought her wrist before her eyes, and even though she couldn't see it, she could feel the outline of a thin, dark scar as she ran her fingers over it. _…Me… who isn't innocent anymore… not pure anymore… who is so weak…! Ugh. High marks count for nothing here. They're useless to me now. Miaka… you've had it so easy. Always, there was someone to protect you… to care for you… to help you… to hold you… to love you… to make you feel like you're worth something…_

She was everything Yui could never be. Yet… she was impossible to hate. To envy? Quite fathomable. But spite, hate… to despise Miaka was to lie to one's self.

_I'm so tired of lying,_ Yui thought wearily, closing her eyes. _To myself, that is. _

Unfortunately… Yui's net of lies, her spiderweb of falsehood, was so perfectly crafted into her very soul, that she no longer knew the difference between right and wrong, lies and truth.

_I know it's right to hate her… but it feels… so wrong… And… I know I'm on the right side… but I feel like… I'm just getting dirtier… and dirtier… and dirtier…!_

She wanted to be clean. She wanted to jump into a pool of icy water and scrub her skin off, till she bled and she ran out of blood to bleed, until she was clean, inside and out; but Yui would never be clean, would she? No. The miko was dirty, dirty by design. Dirty in mind and in body and in soul and in morality. Dirty, dirty, dirty… so easily defiled, so easily judged and misunderstood… so easily flawed. So easily hated.

_Miaka… She must find it so easy to hate me…_

_She must hate me…_

_It's much too late. Too late to turn back. Too late for forgiveness; too late to say 'sorry' and make up like girls in a catty fight. _

_I may not know whether I'm doing right… Or even if I'm making a terrible mistake…_

_But I do know that what's done is done._

_I must hate. I must be hated. I must summon Seiryuu; I must take my revenge on Miaka._

_And I must not look back._

_Even…_ One last tear fell from Yui's eyes, and then they slowed to a stop. _Even if I'll never forget... the taste of strawberry ice cream._


End file.
